


Definitely Maybe

by firefliesinlove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mama Stilinski memories, Mentions of Blood, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Slash, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefliesinlove/pseuds/firefliesinlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has trouble sleeping and the werewolves have, well, trouble. Stiles to the rescue!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitely Maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LexDov](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=LexDov).



Night had fallen over Beacon Hills and what had started as a gentle pattering of rain had evolved into a torrential downpour. The town was by no means known for its night life; at least not officially. There were a lot of things that lurked in the darkness and anybody with a sense of preservation just didn’t spend a lot of time out at night. Mountain lions were vicious creatures, sure, but when compared to, oh, say, _werewolves_? Mountain lions just seemed a bit less scary overall. Or so thought Stiles.

He had never had an easy time falling asleep or staying asleep. Not since the death of his mother and especially not since he found himself in the middle of this crazy surreal supernatural world. How could he _not_ be a little bit preoccupied with thoughts of his best friend Scott turning into a werewolf? _A freaking werewolf_. Or half of his school who gravitated towards this pale, _buff_ creeper with red eyes named Derek. Who was _also a werewolf_.

His mind wandered and flirted with so many topics that he briefly wondered if it wasn’t the Adderall keeping him awake and not just his recent circumstances. He turned his head to look at his alarm clock and it didn’t surprise him in the least when he realized that it was half past one in the morning. He silently thanked any and all deities or higher powers that it was Friday night and there would be no school the following day. Maybe, just maybe, he could sleep in and feel rested for once. Stiles let out a quiet snort of laughter. When was the last time he hadn’t woken up to Scott or Derek banging on his window early in the morning and expecting him to come running? Well, maybe it had been a few days. But he was so used to it by now and part of him liked being the one everyone else relied on for something even if all it was turned out to be a quick Google search. There were all of these bad ass werewolves with claws and fangs and heightened senses skulking around and here was pale, lanky, ADHD, run-off-at-the-mouth Stiles that they all turned to. He must actually be one _bad ass mother fucker_.

He was almost tempted to get up right then and start a Wikipedia entry on the great species known as The Stiles and how it was the most feared above even The Great Werewolves. He knew that was so far from not okay and, heck, even if it was somehow true Derek would probably go all Alpha on his ass for putting their secrets online. He didn’t want to be pushed up against a wall again. Not if it meant red eyes and claws being all up in his face. Scott might also be disappointed and he didn’t like that look on his friend’s face. And so he lay there, tangled in his bed sheets, his left leg shaking restlessly and his eyes half-open as he counted imaginary werewolves jumping over a fence. Sheep were overrated and he really believed Derek had probably eaten them all by now. He imagined one of the werewolves turning to look at him with those fierce red eyes and that always-there werewolf frown and he said “Just jump over the damn fence, Derek.” and the werewolf did and a smile played across his lips as he let his eyes drift shut.

 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

 

It was two thirty-seven in the morning when Stiles woke up with a jolt. It was still dark and the rain hadn’t let up. At first his eyes wandered to his window as though he had completely expected somebody to be there because that wasn’t weird at all. No shadows loomed just beyond the soaking panes of glass. And that, he thought, was definitely weird.

His brain felt foggy and although he just wanted to sleep he had a nagging suspicion that it wasn’t just the brewing storm outside that had woken him up. He stretched out his arm and reached for his bedside table. Blindly, he grasped until the familiar plastic of his phone found its way into his hand and he pulled it onto his bed. His index finger tapped the screen and he froze. Twelve missed calls, eight text messages and one voice mail glared angrily up at him. He went through the text messages first. They were from Scott.

_‘Dude, are you awake?’_

Obviously he had not been.

_‘Meeting up with Derek and the others. Something happened.’_

Stiles just wondered what could have happened because there were so many possibilities. His stomach turned over.

_‘Listen, man. We need some of that Mountain Ash but we’re kind of in a bind. Can you bring some ASAP?’_

Mountain Ash. Right. Because Dr. Deaton had left him with some and of course Scott knew that. Or was it Derek? Sometimes Scott was dense and he didn’t really think Derek had a phone so maybe he told Scott to ask.

_‘We’re almost at the Hale House. Just… Can you meet us there? It’s bad.’_

Of course it was bad. When wasn’t it?

_‘It’s really bad.’_

He re-read that last one and swallowed at the lump in his throat. He thought candidly to himself that he should be dressed already. He was sitting now.

‘ _Deaton isn’t back for two days’_

Was it really his fault that he had silenced his phone? He had simply wanted to sleep. He was just so tired.

_‘STILES! Check your damn phone! They’re COMING and WE NEED YOU!’_

Yes. He should have learned by now to _never_ turn off or silence his phone. This kind of thing was meant to happen if he did.

_‘STILES’_

He was in a near-panicked state by that time and his fingers were shaking. He practically fell off the bed in an attempt to get up while he dialed his voice mail. He pressed the phone to his ear and gripped it with his shoulder as he disentangled himself from his bed sheets.

“You have _one_ new voicemail.” Chirped his phone. “Message _one_.”

Stiles took a deep breath and dug through his dresser drawers.

“STILES. This is not even-” He heard Scott pant and a growl somewhere in the distance and wait, was that a whine? “This is just so not even the time to ignore me, man! The alpha pa-” Scott was cut off and he could hear some shuffling around and shouts this time. Scott screamed and growled simultaneously and Stiles knew that it was bad. Very, very bad. Scott’s voice was further away but he heard the words as if they were in the same room. “ _BRING THE ASH!_ ”

 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

 

Stiles realized that he was driving recklessly and he honestly just couldn’t _give a shit_. He knew that he wasn’t the safest driver but he was still a good driver. He loved his jeep and life, in general, and he wasn’t going to purposefully try and get into an accident. But when it came to _these_ things: his friends and the supernatural world and _everyone_ just relying on him for _something_ he couldn’t be on the sidelines or obey the god damn rules of the roads. Well, not all of them. He didn’t have a death wish. He wouldn’t drive through a red if there were cars coming. Well, maybe. Maybe if he was _really_ in a hurry. And, okay, yeah, right then he was in a big fucking hurry. But even in dangerous moments Stiles at least attempted to be a good driver.

His mother had been the safe driver of the family. She stopped for red lights and stop signs and drove at just the right speed. She was a cautious person when driving her son around. He could still remember the stories she would tell him when they were in the car together. The big smiles she would give him when Stiles would babble on for minutes at a time about nothing, really, or those jokes he knew weren’t actually funny at all. He could still see the look on her face when, at the last second, she saw that big truck heading straight towards them. And why didn’t he just shut up for one second so she could pay attention to the road? Why did she have to turn to smile at him? To laugh at something _stupid_ he had said? If he had just shut up then maybe the sickening sound of crunching metal and her screams… His mother’s screams… Maybe they wouldn’t haunt him to this day. Maybe his dad wouldn’t look so hurt all the time.

Stiles gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. He pushed down harder on the accelerator. He glanced quickly at his backpack on the passenger’s side of his jeep. The Mountain Ash was in there along with a metal baseball bat covered in a thin layer of purple Wolfsbane powder. Stiles kept that one halfway in a plastic bag because if it could affect werewolves so badly he would hate to know what it would do to him if he spent too much time touching or inhaling the stuff.

The rain pounded furiously against the window of his jeep. The windshield wipers barely helped to push away some of the water before there was an onslaught of more. Stiles leaned forward and squinted. He could see the trees now. He was almost there.

These people were his family now, too. And he’d be damned if he let something happen to them. So if they knew what was good for them then they would all still be fucking alive by the time he got there.

 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

 

The forest was pitch black and the ground a dangerous slick surface. Stiles had his backpack slung haphazardly over his shoulder and his jacket was almost completely drenched from the rainfall. His pants and the arms of his jacket were covered in mud from his numerous falls and normally he would care but he was on a mission.

He heard the fighting before he saw a thing. He was running towards the sounds despite his heart pounding in his chest, almost begging him to turn around and flee. If he could hear them then they could _definitely_ hear him and that thought alone made him feel both oddly self conscious and terrified at once. But Stiles wouldn’t be leaving. His friends were in trouble and he had a plan. Maybe.

When he stumbled into the clearing in front of the Hale House he was surprised, to say the least, to see that he was alone. He could hear distinctly werewolf sounds more clearly but the sounds seemed to come from all directions and Stiles just did not feel up to playing ‘Marco Polo’ right then. The wrong werewolf would most likely answer.

He stumbled over to the crumbling front steps of the house and dropped his backpack to the muddy ground. He fumbled with the zipper for a moment before he pulled out a large glass jar filled to the brim with a fine black substance: Mountain Ash. He looked up and around at his barely visible surroundings.

And Stiles thought to himself that, yeah, he definitely had a plan. Was it dangerous and possibly stupid? Of course. Risky situations called for equally risky plans.

He unscrewed the lid to the jar and held it above his head. He took a deep breath, tightly squeezed his eyes shut and dumped the contents of the jar all over his body.

 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

 

“Holy God.” Stiles had found himself in a smaller clearing not far from the Hale House and there was blood. A lot of it and oh my God it was everywhere. He could smell it. Bile rose at the back of his throat and it was all he could do not to throw up right then and there. He had found the pack and his friends. They seemed to be fighting to the death as if that was the way to victory. Did he need to remind them that this wasn’t a video game? No extra lives or second chances. Death was probably pretty damn permanent unless their name just happened to be Peter Hale.

Everything stopped. The urgent focus of battle was temporarily broken. All attention was on Stiles. Derek, who had decidedly taken on two Alphas, widened his eyes. Jackson was close to Derek and looked about ready to attack. Jackson’s face was unreadable. Isaac gaped at Stiles as he lay on the ground with an Alpha’s claws aimed directly at his throat. Scott had an Alpha pinned to a tree and plastered on his face was something between a scowl and a smile. Stiles would make a comment about Scott’s hormones being out of whack at a more appropriate time. The werewolves he couldn’t place, definitely the Alphas, all turned to face him.

“By all means… Don’t stop just because of me.” He gripped the metal bat with both hands and brought it up to his side. He cocked his head to one side and glanced at the nearest female Alpha who had looked about ready to lunge at Derek’s back when he had first arrived. “Well? Let’s go, _bitch_.”

Before he could stop himself Stiles ran towards the Alpha and swung the bat at her head with all of his might. It connected, _hard_ , and left a small cloud of purple dust in its wake. Miss Bad Ass Alpha fell backwards with a deafening howl. He couldn’t stop himself from smirking. “Who else wants a piece of Stiles?”

And then everything was back in full swing again. The rest of the Alpha pack had given up on their fights and, one by one, went to converge on Stiles. He swung the bat again and again in a fit of adrenaline. Sometimes he hit a part of a werewolf and sometimes he swung angrily into the rain. He could see the Wolfsbane dripping down the bat and knew it was only a matter of time before it was a useless chunk of bendable metal to the werewolves. That didn’t matter. That was only his first plan of attack.

He couldn’t see anyone else anymore but that didn’t matter. He knew that they were gaining the upper hand. Three Alphas lay on the ground in a distracted Wolfsbane haze. He knew they wouldn’t get up any time soon.

Finally one of the male Alphas managed to knock the bat out of his hands and Stiles stumbled backwards. His heart thundered in his ears and felt as though it wanted nothing more than to burst out of his chest. He kept his focus on the Alpha and stood his ground when it stepped closer. He was determined that the second part of his plan would be successful.

He closed his eyes and thought of the ash that he had dumped all over himself. He imagined that it covered the entirety of his body. He thought of droplets of rain being repelled by the ash. He believed that nothing could pass through and that this was his special barrier. “Just _believe_ , man.” He whispered to himself.

When he opened his eyes his breath caught in his throat. The male Alpha had its arm outstretched and its claws hovering barely an inch away from his heart. The Alpha growled and flashed its red eyes in anger. It took another step forward as though walking could somehow push through whatever wacky magic Stiles was wielding. The enraged werewolf’s claws shook but could go no further. And Stiles could breathe again.

“Stage fright? Don’t worry, man. It happens to everyone.” Stiles laughed nervously and decided to see if defensive magic could switch to be on the offensive. He lifted up his right arm and pushed against the werewolf. Mr. Stage Fright Alpha backed up willingly. He growled and whined in confusion. “This time it’s worse for you.”

Suddenly the alpha was on the ground and Stiles found himself staring at Derek. Stiles couldn’t help but think that the look on Derek’s face was one he hadn’t seen before and that was really something. The guy always had the same face for all of his moods: frowning and broody. At the moment he almost seemed… proud.

It was over. Stiles blinked and realized that he was sitting on the ground and he was exhausted. Derek kept a small distance between them and knelt down.

“Stiles.” Derek leaned in and sniffed in his direction. “What did you do.” Derek was so demanding. He never asked a question but he always needed an answer.

“I saved the day?” Stiles wondered briefly if Derek always smelled so earthy.

“Mountain Ash.” Derek paused. “I can smell it all over you.”

“Ingenious, am I right?” Stiles felt a bit lightheaded and decided to close his eyes. “Who’d have thought about me being invulnerable to a werewolf? Like _you_?”

“Stiles!” Scott’s voice made him jump a little. “A bit late to the party, weren’t you?”  
  
“Better late than…” When Stiles opened his eyes he noticed that everything had gotten darker. “…Than never, right?

“You okay, man? You sound…” It was Scott’s turn to sniff the air. “You _smell_ weird.”

Soon Isaac and Jackson stood behind Scott and the pair looked down at Stiles.

“That was almost impressive.” Jackson’s eyes flashed blue and he looked away. “There’s hope for you yet.”

“Guys.” Stiles shook his head in an attempt to make the spinning sensation stop. “As much as I like being the hero of the night. Can we… Can we reconvene after I’ve had a shower and some sleep?”

“Yeah, buddy. Sure. You stink.” Scott was the only one who laughed.

Derek stood up and let out a low, quiet growl. He turned from Stiles and he and the others headed back towards the Hale House. Stiles picked himself up slowly and followed close behind the group.

When the house was in view he ran a shaky hand over his face. He wondered momentarily why everyone suddenly flew upwards because that was _so not cool_ and _so not werewolf-like_ before his body crumpled to the ground and the darkness consumed him.

 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

 

He was cold. Stiles knew that feeling very well and he did not like it. Not one bit. It was dark and he felt like an iceberg just floating in a sea of blackness. Somewhere, beyond the body of water, there were muffled voices. Stiles didn’t think that it was urgent. They could find their way around him because he was an iceberg and there was no way that he was moving an inch.

Then a tidal wave collided with him and all he could think was that he was choking on the water and this was to be his demise. And that was silly because icebergs didn’t need to breathe.

He gasped and sputtered and his eyes snapped opened and he was back in a forest in Beacon Hills again and he really was choking on water.

“Oh thank god, Stiles. Thank _god_.” That must be Scott but he didn’t understand what there was to be thankful of when clearly he was drowning and dying.

A warm hand gripped his shoulder and he was pushed onto his side. He coughed and spit up some more water and finally, finally he was able to take a deep breath. Oxygen over water in his lungs _any day_.

When he was rolled onto his back Derek’s face was the first to appear. Was that concern? Another mood Stiles hadn’t really seen before. It was oddly comforting.

“Stiles.” Derek made a sound Stiles had _definitely_ never heard before. Almost a guttural whine. Like he _cared_. Or something. That thought felt complicated and Stiles closed his eyes as he felt the dull throb of a headache form in his temples. “Never do that again.”  
  
“W-what did I d-do?” His teeth chattered as he spoke. He was so cold. As if on cue his upper body was lifted from the ground and something warm was draped around his shivering shoulders. It smelled like Derek and leather. “K-kick some ass, I d-did.”

It was probably his weakest Yoda impression but he knew Scott would get it. His best friend gave him a small smile. Nobody else reacted. Tough crowd.

“Wait. Did y-you drench me in water?” He sat up on his own.

“You fainted like a _girl_.” Jackson clearly had no bedside manner.

“We can’t help you if you’ve rolled around in Mountain Ash.” Derek was like a fact sheet in one of his classes: always to the point and very rarely fun but he still liked both of them. “Don’t do it again.”

“A bucket of water can break through a barrier like that?” Stiles pulled the jacket tighter around himself. It was so warm and snug. He couldn’t help but wonder if Derek knew how cozy it was. If he did he might frown a lot less.

“Or maybe you have to be awake for this stuff to work.” He knew Isaac was guessing but he had no other ideas.

“When I said I wanted a shower… You know that’s not what I meant, right?” Scott and Isaac laughed. Derek went stony faced and Jackson already seemed to be miles away in his own mind. “Just checking.”

“You need to go home.” Derek stood up and glared down at Stiles.

“Gee, Derek, I’m really feeling the love.”  
  
“ _You_.” Derek turned to Scott. “Take him home.”

“What about the Alphas? They won’t be down forever.”

“Go and take care of your friend. We will deal with the rest.” Derek looked almost thoughtful for a moment. “These two have your number if anything happens.”

“Fine.” Scott reached down and helped Stiles get up. “Let’s go, buddy.”

“You know I’m not a package or some piece of meat? My jeep’s not far. I’m feeling awesome now.” Maybe that was a little white lie. He felt better but not great. Derek glared at him and he knew that it was the end of the discussion. Lies would never get passed werewolves and whatever Alpha Derek wanted Alpha Derek got. “Right. Fine. _Love you too_ , Derek. Scott: lead the way.”

Derek growled as they left. Maybe Stiles was too tired to differentiate between werewolf sounds at that moment but he really hadn’t sounded very angry.

“Where’s your jeep?”  
  
“Oh, right. Uh. This way.” And they headed into the thick brush of the forest.

 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

 

By five o’clock in the morning it had stopped raining. Stiles found himself back in bed in dry pajamas and he honestly felt better. He thought that this particular early morning excursion may have been one of the shortest and most productive yet. There was some hope that he might get some sleep before his dad crawled out of the woodworks and he had to leave the sanctuary of his bedroom. He zoned out as he stared at the damp leather jacket hanging on the back of his bedroom door. A knock on his window was so unexpected that he very nearly jumped out of his own skin.

“Scott! What the fu- ….Derek?” And for some reason he felt uncomfortable at the realization that the werewolf creeper was at his window. The window slid open and Derek crawled into his bedroom with ease. “Did… did something else-”

“No, Stiles. The Alphas will not be bothering us. For a little while, at least.” Derek stood awkwardly in the corner of his bedroom nearest the window and his desk.

“Then wha- Ooh. Your jacket’s over there.”

And all of a sudden Derek was _right there_ beside his bed and completely invading his personal space. His pale face definitely inches away from his own and Stiles felt his heart race. And Derek just inhaled deeply, stood back up and looked down at him like that was a completely normal thing they had going on between them. Derek rested a hand on the teen’s shoulder and Stiles definitely felt when his heart skipped a beat.

“You have improved from earlier.” The hand never left his shoulder. “But you need rest.”

He wanted to say _‘No shit, Sherlock’_ but Stiles was suddenly overcome by the inability to utter even a single word. The ties between his brain and mouth were temporarily severed as he felt the blood rush elsewhere. He was thankful that Derek didn’t seem to notice because he certainly tried his best not to.

“You did well tonight. It was impressive for a human.”

Stiles didn’t really know what to say. Derek didn’t do compliments. He just… didn’t. Especially not where Stiles was concerned.

“Stiles?” And was he asking? Because he was pretty sure that was not even a question. Derek pointed to the jacket with what looked to be a smile or a smirk or – Holy Hell did Derek _smile?_ Stiles blinked once, twice and made an attempt to nod. “Dry clean it before you return it.”

Derek was gone and his window closed before he had much of a chance to react. 

“Oh my god. _Oh my god._ Derek just smiled. At _me_. And I’m _turned on_. That is completely not weird at all.” Stiles’s cheeks flushed and he pulled the covers over his face. He decided that he must have a concussion or maybe he was already dreaming and in the middle of a bizarre sexual fantasy.

“I am _not_ attracted to a werewolf. Definitely not.” He was pretty sure that while Lydia was taken she was definitely still the only one for him despite Derek’s impressive collection of muscles or his pretty face. No, he probably did not feel that way towards the handsome, strong werewolf. Maybe. But werewolves definitely did not find him attractive. Did they? Stiles took a deep breath and groaned inwardly. “…God damn it, Derek!”

As he closed his eyes he resolved to deal with his bizarre emotions in the morning. At that moment he just needed to sleep.

One thought circled his mind as he drifted off into a peaceful slumber. He was undeniably attracted to a werewolf named Derek.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written much of anything in about five years. I suddenly feel so very light and free! :-) It only took about a year for my best friend to sit me down and (lovingly) force me to watch Teen Wolf. Another few months to talk enough of Sterek to get me feeling slightly inclined to look at what all of the hub-bub was about. Four days of intense fic reading sessions later and I can say I have seen the light. I mean I almost saw dawn a couple of times there... A few days ago I had an idea. Today I have a story. Can't say I've been this happy in a long time!
> 
> And so, this is the story I have written for my shiny new fandom. I hope you enjoyed it~!
> 
> Lex: I know it's no Thriller story like you requested but I hope at least part of you likes it. :-)


End file.
